


A Beta for My Birthday

by BlueCrownFics



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alpha Thomas, Alpha/Beta, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Beta Minho, Bottom Minho (Maze Runner), M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slavery, Top Thomas (Maze Runner)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-07-11 08:09:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15968237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueCrownFics/pseuds/BlueCrownFics
Summary: Today is Thomas's 18th birthday and as per traditions of every Alpha boy blessed with the funds to do so, his father promised to get him a special gift to commemorate this important day--The gift of ownership.A.k.aThomas is an Alpha finally old enough to be legally responsible for a Companion and Minho is not having it.





	1. A Beta for My Birthday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shuckkeeper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shuckkeeper/gifts).



> This is written for the very lovely Shuckkeeper who requested a very intriguing thominho plot bunny!
> 
> This is the first chapter of what may be an 8 chapter (?) journey. This will not be your stereotypical ABO story, or at least I hope it isn't! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy where it goes Shuckkeeper!

Thomas eyed his wall calendar with apprehension. He marked out the previous date with a black marker, long slender fingers trembling with the hint of nerves that couldn’t easily be seen without keen eyes. He smoothed out the rest of the calendar, feeling the glossy surface beneath calloused fingertips as he took in the weight of reality around him. He took a long, steady breath.  
  
Today was an important day. It was one he’d been waiting for since his 16th birthday--no, perhaps even longer than that--since Thomas had been old enough to understand the way their society functioned and the role their second genders were meant to play.  
  
Thomas lived in an Alpha dominant society. Both of his adoptive parents were renowned Alphas. Mary was a woman of science. She worked hard as a doctor of medicine for Right Arm Industries and had helped pave the way for better health regulations for Alphas, Betas, and Omegas despite the backlash she faced.

Vince, her mate, was the head of his own division within the same company. Thomas wasn’t sure what exactly the man did in his job. Vince wasn’t one to talk about himself despite the stereotype that depicted Alphas as Omegan-chasing-fiends or aggressive, prideful, narcissists. (Not that he blamed anyone for thinking that, Gally certainly didn’t help break the stereotype.)  
  
Regardless of what his parents did, Thomas was certain the respect and admiration they earned was less about their accomplishments and more about their second genders.   
  
Female Alphas were rare and thus, highly sought after. Despite their higher infertility rate, to claim an Alphas female as a mate was a sign of status. They were fiercely protective, their scents potent in a way that may be considered unpleasant to some, but they were undeniably beautiful. Perhaps not as much as Omega men and women, but there was a kind of charm that befell Alpha women that made them desired.  
  
Thomas couldn’t relate. The only female Alpha he had ever seen was his mom and the occasional women his mother would sometimes entertain. Alpha men were far more common. They assaulted the boy most often with their highly aggressive stench of testosterone and sweat.  
  
No, Thomas was not a fan of Alphas. He preferred the company of others with softer, more pleasant scents, and while he wished he had the option of opting out of today’s event, he knew he did not have the luxury.  
  
Today was the boy’s 18th birthday and as per traditions of every Alpha boy blessed with the funds to do so, Vince had promised the boy a special gift for his important day. The gift of ownership.  
  
Thomas sucked in another breath, his heart racing within his chest. He shook the anxiety from his limbs and tried to calm the sour stench of his worries that filled the room in uncontrolled waves. He left the marker on his desk then turned to his full-length mirror that hung off the wall. His face was pale, his lips were thin. His eyes appeared too wide for his own liking and his hair was disheveled from running his fingers through it only a few minutes ago.  
  
He tried his best to tame it down. He straightened his shirt, undusted his jeans then released another shuddering breath.  
  
“Thomas! Are you ready? It’s time to go!”  
  
“Yeah, I’m coming down!”  
  
Thomas gave himself another once-over before grabbing his wallet and stuffing it into his jean pocket. He followed his father into the car and without another word, steeled himself for what was to come.

* * *

 

  
They pulled into the parking lot of the market twenty minutes later. Thomas exited the car with a bounce in his step. He wasn’t excited, not technically. It was more like an expectation—an obligation to their society—rather than something spontaneous and joyous. A part of him that had grown up under the protected, guidance of an Alpha oriented society felt elated that he was finally of age to be given what he believed was his birthright. Another part of him--the part that had been raised under the very watchful eye of his tutor, Jorge (who also happened to be a Beta bought by his father years before Thomas was born)--felt that buying the rights to a slave was wrong and inhumane. Especially when said slave was merely a child like Thomas.

(Thomas thought that was amusing since Alpha boys and girls were considered adults by the age of eighteen. But _“No, no,”_ Jorge would say, “ _You are all children until I say otherwise.”_ )  
  
Thomas kept his opinions on Omegan and Beta slaveries to himself. Gally, on the other hand, did not. His views were loud and brash. He believed, like many other Alphas before him, that Omegas were meant to serve as their breeders while Betas were meant to serve as their cleaners. And while Thomas had punched the boy for being obnoxiously vulgar, he kept his mouth shut.  
  
Gally was a year younger than Thomas. When it was his time to choose a slave, Thomas wondered if the boy would choose an Omega to claim as his own or a Beta to care for his needs.  
  
Thomas snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of his father’s voice. The older Alpha gestured toward the market gates.  
  
They were black, heavy iron rods guarded by men in white suits and weapons tucked away from their hands but still within reach. They stood like statues, their faces hidden behind dark visors; their lips pressed thin. Their scents were soft and unimposing despite their garb. Thomas wondered if they were employed Betas or Alphas controlled by another of higher rank.  
  
His father walked past the guards without a care. Thomas followed.  
  
The market was not a typical place. It stood in the shadows of WICKED territory, guarded by silent men and controlled by shady Alphas and Betas who were lucky enough to be owned by Alphas of higher standing. Thomas had only been to the market once as a child with Mary. He couldn’t recall why. Didn’t care to, really.  
  
He examined the stalls as they walked, ignoring the cacophony of noise that surrounded him and the stench of mingling scents. The stall men and women sold items not commonly found in storefronts. Many of the stalls they walked past specialized in clothing for Omegas. Some sold toys for Omegan heats. Others for Alphan Ruts. Thomas walked past a few stalls that sold exotic animals as pets, leashes and toys, forbidden books or food impossible to obtain elsewhere.  
  
Few stalls held items for Betas, but Vince led Thomas beyond the rows and rows of crowded stalls and into a clearing that seemed oddly abandoned despite the crowd. They approached the entrance of an absurdly large tent guarded by more men in white.  
  
One of the guards stood before the entranceway. He did not say a word.

Vince pulled out his wallet and flashed the guard his Alpha ID. He stepped aside, silent as ever.  
  
They entered the tent.  
  
Lined along the edges of the tent stood various people of various ages and ethnicities. They stood in cages, tall enough for them stand to their full height but too narrow for them to lay in. Their limbs were chained, some more than others, and while Thomas felt his stomach churn in mild disgust, his thoughts were immediately silenced by the prescience of a man.  
  
He was tall and slender, with whispers of gray hair mingling in his ebony locks. He wore a uniform Thomas recognized as being a trademark of WICKEDs. He approached them quickly, dark eyes bright and shiny with an unreadable emotion. His eyes fell on Thomas for the barest of a second before he greeted Vince with a firm handshake.  
  
Thomas wrinkled his nose in disgust. The man’s Alpha scent reeked.  
  
“Vince, a pleasure to finally have you return,” The man greeted with a smirk. His eyes flicked back to Thomas. “And you’ve brought your son. My name is Janson, owner of this establishment. To what do I owe for this occasion?”  
  
“It’s Thomas’s 18th birthday,” Vince sniffed, gesturing to the boy. “Decided it was time he pick up a companion.”  
  
Companion. Thomas barely contained his snort. They weren’t companions. Being a  companion implied a mutual agreement, a friendship, _a bond_. These people were slaves. Nothing more. Nothing less.  
  
“I see. Then you’ve come to the right place.”  
  
Janson led them toward the back of the tent where another entrance was being guarded. Thomas eyed the slaves they passed, his stomach souring further at their blank expressions.  
  
“So Thomas, what are you looking in a companion?” Janson asked as he escorted them outside. They were greeted with more rows of occupied cages.  
  
Thomas licked his dry lips.  
  
“Someone my age. Maybe a little older or younger. I’m not picky.”  
  
“The teenagers are around here.”  
  
He led them deeper into the maze of cages until Thomas found most of their occupants to be young and silent. Some of the more troublesome companions were chained still, muzzles over their mouths to keep them from screaming or biting. They were all dressed in the same plain white gown that was customary of marketplace slaves, especially if they belonged to WICKED.  
  
Thomas was thankful they weren’t as loud or smelly as the marketplace itself. He wandered the rows of cages, examining each occupant with a thoughtful gaze until movement caught the corner of his eye.  
  
A boy sat hunched into himself. His head hung low, black hair a wild mess and his white gown stained with dirt and dust from the floor of his cage. His wrists and ankles were marred from the iron shackles, rubbed raw and red from what Thomas presumed was an intense struggle. A muzzle pressed tightly over his lips, obscuring half his face but not his eyes.  
  
He reeked of trouble, like a smoldering flame and dry earth. His features were exotic to Thomas, although he felt too ashamed to admit that. It was bad enough that Gally mocked him for being a sheltered Alpha boy, but to openly admit he was one? No thanks!

Thomas approached the cage, intrigued. The slave didn’t move, unbothered by Thomas’s alpha scent. Thomas wondered if he could even breathe with that muzzle. Or was he drugged? He certainly looked worse for wear. And yet…

Thomas licked his lips. “I want this one.” He said, his voice loud and unwavering. “He’s the one.”

His new companion remained uncaring.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been extremely difficult to find the proper time to edit these chapters （◞‸◟） but I feel terrible that I haven't posted anything in ages. Once I finish with school work, I'm definitely coming back and editing EVERYTHINg, but for now, have this.

He’d heard the boy’s declaration loud and clear. The nearby slaves mumbled under their breaths, his name barely a whisper on their tongues. They fell silent as the Alphas moved, but Minho remained where he sat. Despite the complaints his spine made for being hunched as long as he had, Minho refused to give these Alphas the light of day.  
  
He ignored Janson’s slippery words as he directed the men toward the tent to fill out paperwork. He ignored the handlers, who came to him on Janson’s orders and fought tooth and nail for his last chance at freedom.  
  
But they were familiar with his antics. With a hard elbow to the gut, Minho crumbled to his knees. A pointed, metallic object pressed into the small of his back and Minho felt his entire body light up in agony. The harsh static buzz of a taser drowned out his senses as his body jerked and quivered against the unnatural electric current. He collapsed to the ground, twitching; his throat felt sore from screaming.  
  
“I’m gonna miss our daily fights, ya fuckin’ shank,” One of the handlers grinned. He loomed over Minho’s beaten body, dark eyes crinkled with amusement. “Hope yer new master teaches ya some fuckin’ manners.”  
  
If Minho could regain some semblance of motor control, he would have spat in the guy’s face, but all he could do was growl threateningly. They lifted him to his feet harshly and carried him to the checkout station.

* * *

The journey “home” was filled with a heavy silence. Minho sat in the back seat of their truck, his wrists still bound by zip tie cuffs, but his jaw was free of its muzzle. He kept his senses closed and his mouth shut. He didn’t want to inhale their scents; suppressed the horrid urge to do so with stubborn control.  
  
Minho was a Beta, but that didn’t mean Alphan scents didn’t affect him. It was bad enough he’d been sold into their care, he didn’t want to make matters worse by willingly indulging in their god-awful stench. Their scents permeated throughout the car like pungent meat left out to rot in the sun. He couldn’t shake off the small whiff he’d accidentally inhaled when he first entered the truck. His blood boiled in frustration.  
  
And yet, despite his silence, he was not above bad mannerisms. Minho forced his own, aggravated scent into the car. From the passenger side window, he’d caught sight of the young Alpha’s nose twitch. He watched the boy’s mouth thin out in discomfort.  
  
Minho sat back in his seat. He glanced out the window, periodically staring Thomas down while he slowly pushed out more of his aggravated scent into the truck. Vince’s cough tore Minho’s attention away from the sidewalk. He stared the older Alpha down. But Vince wasn’t watching. He kept his eyes on the road, humming softly to the tune that played on the radio.  
  
Thomas sneezed.  
  
“Bless you.”  
  
“Thanks,” he sniffed.  
  
“Not catching a cold are you?”  
  
Thomas’s next sniff sounded more congested than the last. “I hope not,” he mumbled before another sneeze tore through his body.  
  
Minho couldn’t hide the smug smile from his face.

* * *

 

When they reached their destination, the young Alpha bolted from the truck and into the safety of the clear air. He bent himself at the waist, hands perched on his knees as he faced the ground. Minho heard a heave or two, though, he didn’t hear anything else. He watched him from the backseat of the truck, a part of him delighted he was able to make his new owner as uncomfortable as possible throughout their ride, to the point of sickness, but another part of him grew tense as a thought crawled into his mind.

He’d heard horror stories during his captivity. They came from the guards who would grow bored watching them, and being forbidden to touch them unless told otherwise, there wasn’t much for their handlers to do than to gossip. And for Minho, who was held prisoner for being aggressive and unruly, he could do nothing but listen. Listen and _learn_.

He heard of the rich Alphas, who came to the market specifically for a new Omega to claim or breed. He heard what would happen to a Beta if they chose to ignore their Alpha’s orders, or of Omegas who tried to fight back. Society was not kind to his people and Minho didn’t doubt that his new owner was no different than the Alphas of those stories.

Cautiously, he stepped out of the truck once the boy’s father had done so and waited.

Vince appeared by Thomas’s side in a flash. He patted the boy on the back and let out a hearty laugh.

“You OK there, kiddo? You’ve barely had him for an hour and you’re already sick of his stench?”

Minho’s lips curled into a barely restrained snarl. So the old man knew what he’d been up to, and yet… he did nothing?

Thomas held up a finger toward his adoptive father’s face. They waited in silence, one minute and then another before the young Alpha straightened his back. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve then turned to Minho, brows furrowed.

Minho met his eyes defiantly.

“Welcome to your new home, Beta,” his new master said instead. He extended his arms widely, as though to showcase their “humble” abode. He flashed Minho a smug smile that stood out against his sickly pale skin. “Let’s try to get along, OK?”

Minho would rather eat the tire of Vince’s truck than get along with this spoiled Alpha. And yet, the Beta wisely kept his mouth shut. He followed behind Thomas and Vince as they entered their home.

“Well then Thomas, I’ll leave the rest to you.” Vince said the moment all three of them were in the foyer. “I have business to attend to. Happy birthday, kiddo.”

“Thanks,” Thomas said and watched Vince disappear around the corner to do whatever it was that Vince had to do. “I don’t think I have to go over this with you since you _should_ already be aware, but just to be safe,” Thomas whirled around unexpectedly, nearly colliding into his new companion who appeared to be lost in thought. “Hey now, stay focused!”

The Beta gave him a heated glare, the corners of his lips curled into a barely restrained sneer before he managed to taper down his temper. Thomas wondered, briefly, if the boy’s temper was going to cause him problems. Janson hadn’t given him or his father any fair warnings about the Beta’s behavior during his time in captivity. He hadn’t even divulged in the boy’s name until _after_ Vince signed off and paid the man.

Thomas gave the Beta a once over, taking in the dirty white clothes he wore and the fading bruise marks that littered across his tanned skin. He didn’t want to think about what the guy had endured during his time as a slave, and a part of Thomas hoped it wouldn’t come back to haunt him. Thomas’s eyes fell onto the zip ties still tied around the Beta’s wrists.

“Stay right here,” he said then disappeared into the room over.

When he returned, he wasn’t surprised—but still relieved—to see that the Beta hadn’t wondered off. He remained standing in the foyer, stock still and tense, a scowl plastered on his bruised face.

“I’m gonna take the ziptie off, alright?” Thomas told him. He held up both of his hands slowly, one palm open while the other held onto a pair of scissors. “I know you’d rather I fuck off, probably, or something, but that can’t be comfortable.”

“Clearly,” The Beta growled, anger evident in his dark eyes. To Thomas’s surprise, he held out his wrists. “Watch where you stick that thing, Alpha.”

Thomas couldn’t restrain his eye roll. “Wow, a little snippy aren’t we? Alright, hold still.”

The young Alpha carefully slipped one end of the scissor’s blade between the Beta’s wrists. With a loud _snap_ that seemed to echo in the foyer, the plastic retrains slid cleanly from his skin and onto the floor.

Thomas watched the boy rub his skin. Now that the restraints were off, Thomas could see clearly the old bruising from his previous metallic restraints as well as make out the outline of where the plastic ones had bit into his skin. He grimaced.

“So,” he began after an awkward few minutes of silence. “Janson told me your name was Minho.”

The Beta— _Minho_ —gave Thomas a blank stare.

“He didn’t go into details about you or your background, or if we should be worried about your behavior. Are you familiar with your duties and what’s to be expected of you?”

Minho rolled his eyes as though Thomas were the stupidest person he had the displeasure of encountering. “Yes,” He drawled. “I know what my damn job is. As a Beta, I’m your glorified babysitter.”

Thomas bristled. “Er, no. You’re technically my butler—”

“So you expect to me weigh on you, hands and feet?”

“You’re a Beta. That’s why I bought you.”

Minho’s expression turned ferocious. If Thomas thought the petulant scowl the Beta wore during their long drive over here was intimidating, the horrendous, furious fire blazing in those dark eyes was on a completely different level. His Alpha senses kicked in the moment he smelled the stench of outrage waft into the foyer. Without consciously meaning to, Thomas’s own scent poured into the room like a tsunami.

It overcame the indignant smell of the Beta and wrapped them both up in a blanket of testosterone and adrenaline. Minho’s face morphed back into a scowl. His rage was still present, but his Beta instincts must have been keeping it at bay. Or at least, Thomas hoped it was. Thomas didn’t like to rely on his Alpha instincts to keep people in their place. It made him feel dirty and ashamed, but sometimes, he just couldn’t control himself.

“Fine,” He heard the Beta mutter. “What are your expectations, _Master_.” He spat out the last word like a curse.

Thomas didn’t have it in him to feel offended.

“Since you asked,” he began, brown eyes staring unwaveringly into the other boy’s eyes. “You’ll help Jorge in the kitchen when it’s time for meals. You’ll clean up my room and do my laundry. Whatever help I need, you will provide it to me and I will do my best to do the same for you. You will look after me if I become sick and in turn, you will receive the proper healthcare under my family’s name. If you do what you’re told and respect everyone in this household, we should get along fine. Got it?”

“Got it,” Minho growled out, as though those two simple words were the hardest things he could ever say.

“Oh and one more thing.” Thomas held out his hand between them. Minho cocked an eyebrow. “My name is Thomas and I would appreciate it if you remembered that.”

Reluctantly, Minho’s sweaty, calloused hand slid into Thomas’s own.

“Minho,” he said after a moment.

“Welcome to your new home, Minho.” He grasped tightly onto the Beta’s hand, his smile bright and determined.


	3. How to Train Your Beta

Minho’s tasks were simple: Clean up his owner’s room, help out Jorge in the kitchen, make sure his Alpha didn’t sleep in too late or skip any meals; do his Alpha’s laundry, etc. etc. None of things Thomas had told him truly surprised him. It was the expectations among Beta house workers and while Minho hated it with every fiber of his being, a part of him was grateful—maybe even somewhat _thankful_ —that Thomas didn’t expect to… pleasure him… in some way. Minho didn’t trust the Alpha as far as he could throw him, but having lived with them for close to four days now left Minho certain Thomas and his family were a rare sort of Alpha.

Case in point: his clothes.

Minho didn’t have many clothes… or any to be frank. Being born a Beta meant he didn’t have much of a choice in the clothes he could wear or places to shop. And since he’d been sold into slavery since he was old enough to remember, Minho’s wardrobe had always been one thing and one thing alone—white clothes that were scratchy against his skin and too thin to keep him warm during the winter months.

But having been bought by Thomas, Minho was given an opportunity that was both rare and a blessing. Thomas gave him clothes—actual cotton clothes of more colors than the bland bone-gray he’d had to deal with most of his life.

Minho stared into his reflection, face sour and hair immaculate. He pinched and tugged at his new clothes, clean and wrinkle free, yet slightly stiff from having been recently unwrapped from its package. They would be comfortable once they adjusted to his body shape and while the material was of the highest possible quality—not unsurprising for a rich Alphan family—Minho felt the scowl worsen against his lips.

His pride was screaming. They weren’t his clothes, his pride would point out. Not truly, not yet. They were purchased and paid for by the Alpha who owned him—it wasn’t something Minho had earned with his own free will and that alone boiled the blood in his veins.

 “It could be worse,” he grumbled quietly, hoping to silence the voice of his Pride that seemed to incessantly wail in his head. “It could always be worse.” He refused to think about the young Omegas left back in the Marketplace.

Minho turned away from the mirror and took a moment to scan his room. Another luxury he never thought he would have again. Thomas had given him a room of his own. Sure, it was small compared to all the other rooms in the house and he was merely a corner away from Thomas’s bedroom, but it was still _something_ a beta like Minho would never have elsewhere.

A bed of his own, clothes, a bathroom and three course meals a day. It was luxurious, a privilege so few had and yet here he was, living it. It was almost… perfect. All he needed now was his freedom and a source of income and then Minho would feel like he hit the jackpot.

All those years with Janson, the Beta trades… the Marketplace…

Minho took a deep breath and inhaled slowly through pursed lips. “Just do your job, Minho” he murmured under his breath. He steeled his resolve, his heart racing in his chest. _Wait for your opportunity._

He wondered, for a brief moment, if Thomas would be opposed to giving him an income. Jorge, the family’s older Beta caretaker, had a sizeable income despite being an older generation Beta. He had since long earned the right to buy his own freedom, and yet, Minho couldn’t understand why the man stayed with the family. He had no reason to, not anymore. Any Beta with a source of income would fly their owner’s coop the moment they had the chance, but Jorge? He remained. Minho couldn’t understand why.

With another exhale, Minho shook the anxiety from his fingertips.

“It’s time to get to work.”

-x-X-x-

Thomas had been clear on what he expected from Minho during the first day of his arrival. And he’d been generous enough to allow Minho three days to adjust to his new home life and circumstances before putting the boy to work. Now, as Minho stared blankly at the pile of laundry waiting for him in the washroom, Minho wondered if it was too late to ask for an extended vacation. One or two more days would suffice. Or a week. A month maybe.

He groaned.

In one corner of the room, stood two bags filled to bursting with Thomas’s clothes. One bag had already spilled out its contents all over the floor. On the other side of the large laundry room were more bags filled with laundry, ones Minho didn’t recognize. He clicked his tongue in disgust.

He picked up the first bag of laundry and carried it to the washer. He didn’t understand why a boy Thomas’s age needed more than a hundred pairs of underwear and undergarments. He knew the boy was rich, and it wasn’t like the young Alpha was that sociable but this? This was ridiculous. He poured the entire laundry bag into the washer, stuffed down the socks and underwear as compacted as he could before grabbing the next bag.

He peered inside. Colorful clothes glared up back at him. Various shirts of bright reds and greens, some dark blues and maroons—Thomas had a vast array of clothing Minho had never seen the boy wear, and yet, here they were, left for him to wash. He cursed under his breath.

He dumped the whole bag into the washer without a care and tossed the bag aside. From the top shelf, he grabbed the first bottle of detergent he could and poured its contents inside.

“Forty minutes should do it,” he muttered to himself, slamming the top shut and turning the knob. “This guy has way too many fuckin’ clothes, _sheesh_.”

He placed the bottle of detergent back on the counter, set the timer for the wash then went on his merry way.

-x-X-x-

Thomas’s room was fairly small for a boy with money. It was bigger than any room Minho had the luxury of seeing, but compared to the rest of the house, it was… _small._ Humble. Thomas’s bed was only a Queen, shoved against a wall between two night stands. He had a full length mirror attached the wall beside the door, a dresser and a desk where he kept his computer. His closet was a walk in, with space for his insufferable amount of clothes and shoes, but while the rest of the house was spacious in a way that made Minho annoyed to clean, Thomas’s room was a bit more manageable.

It helped that the Alpha was relatively clean himself. Despite the boy’s pile of clothes stuffed obviously in the wash, the rest of his room was mostly clean. It needed a good dusting here and there, but the floor was walkable and his desk mostly empty safe for a few bits of papers and notebooks stacked on the corner.

Minho picked up the duster from his tray of cleaning products and heaved a heavy sigh.

“The quicker we get this shit over with, the happier we’ll be.” He grumbled to no one. He waved the duster around experimentally, marveling at its cleanliness despite being used to pick up dust then proceeded to clean.

-x-X-x-

“MINHO!” Jorge’s exasperated scream echoed throughout the hall with surprising loudness. “GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW, MINHO!”

“Ugh, what does this old man want _now_?” Minho groaned. He dropped the mop into the bucket and exited the room with another loud, obnoxious groan. “What is it, Jorge?” He asked, peering into the laundry room.

His eyes nearly popped out of his socket.

Jorge stood in the center of the room, up to his knees in soapy, sudsy water. The washing machine Minho had stuffed Thomas’s clothes in earlier vibrated as it churned, spewing a steady stream of soap. The older Hispanic Beta gave Minho a dark glare.

“What did you do?”

Minho tried to act casual. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know how that happened, all I did was add detergent.”

“Yes, _mijo_ , I can clearly see that. How _much_ detergent did you add?” Jorge pressed. The stench of his annoyance could be smelt through the scent of the soap.

Minho shrugged again. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but knew it was a losing battle. Jorge may have only been just a Beta, but the man had a great sense of smell—one that could rival an omega—and Minho knew, even without confirming it for himself, that Jorge could practically _smell_ the guilt from his pores.

He sighed in exasperation.

“Alright I’ll clean it up!”

“Good, and you’re washing my pants too.”

Minho’s loud groan was his only response.


	4. Chapter 4

The more days Minho spent in the Alpha household, the more he realized he’d fallen into a routine. Day in and day out, Minho went through the same motions. He woke up, got dressed, ate breakfast and then helped Jorge prepare breakfast for the family. Afterward, he would go to Thomas’s room, get him ready for his own day and then follow the young Alpha around to whatever event his parents had in store for him.

After that, regardless of how their day went, Minho would return to the kitchen, prepare dinner, eat dinner himself and then get ready for the next day.

It was a better life than the market. He didn’t get periodically beaten and he didn’t have to worry about where his next meal was coming from. He didn’t have to suffer the anxiety of a new omega coming into their heat for the first time or hear their desperate wails when they were restrained to keep from deflowering themselves.

Living with Thomas was like living in paradise. Everything he could ever want was at the tip of his fingers. And yet…

And _yet…_

Minho sighed loudly into the darkness of his bedroom.

It still wasn’t living.

-x-X-x-

He could feel Thomas’s eyes on him as he served the boy his dinner that night. He ignored Thomas’s inquisitive glances and avoided any questionable conversations by keeping his answers short and clipped. He couldn’t avoid the Alpha for long, but Minho felt he had done well by focusing on his job and only appearing by Thomas’s side when he was needed. Yet he knew his behavior couldn’t last. It was only a matter of time when Thomas decided to do something about it.

And Minho suspected the time was now.

He’d been in the washroom, trying his damnedest to sort Thomas’s whites from his colors when the Alpha in question appeared in the room with a scent that wreaked of determination.

“You and I have to talk.” Thomas demanded in his best impression of an Alpha’s tone he could muster.

Minho, as a Beta, wasn’t affected by the tones of an Alpha trying to exert dominance. He turned to the boy, his expression devoid of emotion.

“What?”

Minho could smell Thomas’s irritation spike. “Don’t “what” me, Minho! What’s up with you lately? You’ve been avoiding me.”

The Beta quirked his head to the side casually. “Have I?”

“Yes! What’s up with you?!”

Barely controlled rage boiled deep within his core. Minho forced himself to shove all of Thomas’s colored clothes into the washing machine before he dared to entertain a response to the Alpha. He carefully measured the appropriate amount of detergent—just as Jorge had taught him—then dumped the cup full into the clothes before closing the machine. In all the while, Thomas watched him. He could practically feel the Alpha’s eyes zeroing in on his every movement as he worked.

It wasn’t until Minho had turned back to him that he finally allowed himself to feel the anger of his wounded pride.

“What’s up with me? You want to know what’s _up_ with me?” He scoffed. “Look around you Thomas! _This_ is what’s up with me!” He gestured to the whole of the washroom.

Thomas scowled. “I know laundry sucks, but—”

“It’s not the laundry, Thomas!” Minho snapped. “It’s _this!_ This whole place! My life, your life! US!”

Thomas’s confusion was evident in his scent. It only fueled Minho’s rage further. He should have known than to believe a spoiled rich boy Alpha like Thomas would ever understand his struggles.

“Never mind,” Minho bit out as though it were a curse. “Forget I ever said anything.”

He made way to leave the washroom but Thomas stood in his path. He held out his hand in an attempt to keep the male in place but Minho kept his distance. He eyed the Alpha warily.

“You don’t mean it literally, do you?” Thomas questioned, his brows furrowed. “You’re referring to the classifications. Alpha. Beta. Omega.”

Minho didn’t grace him with a response.

“Minho, I—” He watched the Alpha struggle for a response. A mixture of emotions ran though his scent, far too many for Minho to pick out. After a second of struggling, Thomas snapped his mouth shut. “I’m sorry,” he sighed.

Minho scowled. “Yeah, me too.” He trudged passed the Alpha without another word.

-x-X-x-

He waited for the house to fall still before he put his plan into action. He’d been planning this moment for weeks. It’d been one of the hardest things he had ever done, to keep himself from bolting out of the house the first opportunity he had, but Minho couldn’t risk losing the trust he’d been trying to cultivate since he was bought. He’d been right to assume Thomas and his parents were unlike any other Alphan family he had seen. The small freedoms they’d given him was a testament to that.

Minho had only been living with the Alphas for four months, and while it wasn’t the most terrible experience – Minho had far too many to count from – it still didn’t beat the freedom of just _being_. He wanted to be Minho, not Minho the Beta or the Beta owned by an Alpha. He wanted his own identity, make his own decisions and earn his own wages through his sheer hard work and strong will.

Thomas was a good enough master to him, but Minho could care less of how the boy treated him or why. He was an Alpha, through and through, and there was nothing this young Alpha could do that would change his mind.

When all the residence in the house fell silent in sleep, Minho was ready. He pulled a backpack from under his bed and checked its contents. He’d been sure to pack the mostly comfortable clothes he could find and divided his food rations enough for a good few days. Maybe a week if he was lucky. Buried deep into the bag, Minho pulled out a wad of cash he’d manage to steal steadily throughout his time in the Alpha home. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for bus fare and maybe a one night stay at a cheap motel.

He pulled the bag over his shoulder, grabbed a sweater that hung from behind the door and quietly crept out of his room.

Four months of doing nothing but house cleaning and dealing with Thomas had taught Minho enough about the boy’s habits to know when it was safe to put his plan into action. He found that the boy was a heavy sleeper. Creeping along the hallway past his bedroom wasn’t going to be enough to wake up the sleeping Alpha, but he also knew that while Thomas could sleep like the dead, it didn’t mean that everyone else could to.

He crept as quietly as he could down the stairs, his steps light as a feather. Even with the rug that adorned each individual step wasn’t enough to silence the heavy thumps of his steps if he wasn’t careful. He’d woken up many a nights to the sounds of footsteps thanks to Jorge or Thomas’s parents returning home late after a long day. He treaded onto the bottom step. It creaked and groaned beneath his weight, the sound almost reverberating off the walls. He tensed and strained his ears for any signs of life.  He waited a breath. Then another.

Nothing.

Minho scurried off the step in a flash and was out the door before he could blink. Didn’t dare take a breath until he was halfway down the block; didn’t dare to look back until he was three blocks away from the home.

He grinned in triumph.

“That’ll show ‘em,” he breathed, his heart racing. Adrenaline buzzed in his veins as he walked, his mind whirring with thoughts and ideas.

Truthfully, he didn’t think he would get this far. But here he was, in the middle of the night without his owners breathing down his neck and the entire world at his feet. Where would he go? What would he do?

He didn’t know nor did he care. The most important thing was that he was finally _free_.

Minho made the quiet journey down the silent street, his senses on high alert as he ran through strategies in his head. There weren’t many places a Beta like him could run off to. He didn’t know where his old home used to be, didn’t think he’d be welcomed back anyway even if he tried. He didn’t know how far WICKED’s influences extended or how long he could truly escape from his Alpha owners.

“I could try for the border,” He murmured, voice quiet as to not disturb the heavy silence of the night. “Might not get far though.”

“Yeah, they check for ID there.”

For a split second, Minho thought his soul left his body. He whirled around on his feet, eyes wide open to take in the sight of Thomas, dressed in pajama shorts and a light sweater, standing behind him. Draped over his shoulder was a backpack, full and heavy, though Minho couldn’t imagine with what. The Alpha gave the older boy a friendly grin then gestured to the dark horizon as though to urge Minho to continue.

Minho didn’t take the bait.

“What in the hell are you doing out here?!”

Thomas shrugged casually. “Going wherever you’re going.”

“The hell you ain’t!” Minho snapped. “go back home, Thomas!”

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“I’m not going home without you.”

Minho’s words died in his throat. He floundered for a response but only managed to gesticulate his arms widely. Thomas seemed unfazed.

“I’m not going back!” Minho managed after a moment of struggling. “You can’t make me. I don’t care if you’re my owner or not, I’m tired of this Thomas. I want my freedom and I’m gonna take it regardless of what you say.”

“You know I can’t let you do that, Minho. It’s illegal for Betas to run away.”

“Well then arrest me, _Alpha_ , because I’m not goin’ back!”

“Minho—” Thomas reached out for the Beta, but Minho ripped his arm out of Thomas’s reach. Before he had the chance to say a word, a car pulled up from around the corner, bright red and blue lights flashing.

Minho immediately straightened himself as the cop car pulled up beside them.

“You boys alright?”

“Yes, we’re fine.” Thomas said when Minho refused to answer. “We were just heading home.”

The cop’s seedy eyes trailed from Minho to Thomas then to Minho again. “Can I see some identification?”

Minho’s gut twisted. He watched silently as Thomas handed his ID to the officer and waited with bated breath for Thomas to hand him over. It took an agonizing five minutes of them whispering among themselves before Thomas finally called him over. He climbed into the backseat of the car and patted the seat beside him.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re going home.” Thomas explained with a roll of his eyes. “Come on, we’re getting a ride.”

Minho clicked his tongue in annoyance, but complied. He slipped into the backseat of the car and remained silent during the short ride over.

Once they were safely back in the house did Minho whip around to Thomas, eyes full of rage.

“Don’t expect a thank you from me,” he growled. “I don’t want to be here and nothing you do will make me change my mind.”

“That’s fine, Minho. But I hope you know that I don’t really care. I’m going to do my best to prove you and your ass wrong.”

Minho scoffed. “Wrong about what?”

“That not all Alphas are the same. Good night, Min.” Thomas scrolled past him, a smug smirk on his lips.

Minho felt his hackles rise. “That’s _Minho_ to you, Thomas!” he hissed after him, though Thomas’s barely audible chuckle did not go unnoticed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will, at some point, go back and retitle all the chapters so that they have names.
> 
> check out my writing blog on tumblr (nadacreates.tumblr.com) and/or my twitter (@nadacreates)


	5. Chapter 5

Thomas eyed the charcoal slab of what he assumed was meant to be his dinner warily. He glanced toward Minho, who stood beside him with a blank look on his face then poked at the crispy piece of burnt chicken with a fork. It crumbled beneath his touch.

Thomas sighed. “You burnt dinner again.”

Minho hummed thoughtfully. “Did I though?”

Thomas scowled. “Minho, this isn’t even chicken anymore. It’s charcoal!”

“Good for the bones, shank.”

Across the table, Vince nearly choked on his drink. Mary hid her chuckles behind her palm. Thomas stared wide eyed at Minho.

“Are you serious right now?”

“Eat your dinner, Thomas.” Minho smiled sickeningly sweet. “You’re too scrawny for an Alpha.”

From across the room, Thomas heard three voices hum in agreement.

-x-X-x-

Thomas pulled out a pair of underwear from his drawer without much thought until something startling pink caught his eye. He turned to the mirror, zeroing in on the pink garment in his hands before he turned his attention completely toward his briefs.

They were a soft pastel pink.

They’re supposed to be white.

“MINHO!”

Minho poked his head lazily from the doorway. “Yes, _Master_?” The Beta drawled.

Thomas felt an incredible urge to smack that dumb smile off his face. “Why are my briefs _pink_?”

Minho lazily eyed the garment in Thomas’s hands before shrugging slowly. “Because you like pink?”

“I don’t like pink!”

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong about liking pink, Thomas.”

“I DON’T LIKE PINK!”

“So why is your underwear pink?”

“Because you mixed the colors again!”

Minho leaned against the door form, his arms crossed against his chest. His index finger tapped against his chin as though he were thinking very hard about something then said, “Did I though?”

Thomas’s frustrated scream could be heard a block over.

-x-X-x-

Revenge was as sweet and delicious as Jorge’s dulce con leche, which is exactly what Thomas was eating when Minho stormed into the kitchen with hair flat against his head and a bottle of what appeared to be hair gel clutched tightly in his hands. He slammed the empty container beside Thomas and loomed over the Alpha like a predator about to eat his prey.

Thomas licked his spoon.

“What did you do to my hair gel?” Minho’s voice was dark and dangerous. His Beta scent released from him in waves, trying its best to suffocate Thomas but the Alpha kept his cool.

He shrugged nonchalantly and licked his spoon again.

“I don’t know, Min. You used that thing so much, I figured it’d all end up in your hair eventually.”

“Thomas,” Minho growled. “My. Hair. Gel.”

Thomas hummed in disinterest.

“It was a new bottle, _Thomas_.”

Thomas placed a spoon full of dulce con leche into his mouth then turned to the raging Beta beside him. He pulled out the utensil slowly, allowing the sweet confection to coat his tongue and fill his body with glee as he swallowed.

“Was it though?” He said coyly.

Minho tackled him in a flash.

-x-X-x-

“I am disappointed in you two!” Jorge towered over them, hands on his waist as both boys sat far apart on the couch in the living room. Jorge stared between the two of them, brows furrowed and parental scowl firmly in place as he gestured to the mess they had left in the kitchen thanks to their earlier fight. “Now, I don’t care who started what or what the problem is between you two, but you both damn well know you’ll be cleaning the kitchen until everything is _spotless_. _Entiende?”_

“He started it,” Minho grumbled.

Jorge honed in on the Beta faster than was humanly possible.

“Say that again, Minho?”

Minho shirked further into the couch, suddenly fully aware of how dangerous it was to anger Jorge any further than they already had. Jorge pulled back, his scent overwhelming yet no longer tinged with that barely controlled rage from earlier.

“I don’t know what is going on between you two, but this behavior has got to stop. Not only is it inappropriate, but it’s _dangerous_.” He paced in front of them, his hands clenching and unclenching as his pheromones began to curdle with anxiety. “Thomas, I _know_ you were raised better than this. You’re lucky your parents are unlike any other Alphas I’ve ever met. And that goes the same for you too, Minho. For a Beta to pick a fight with his owner like that? Do you understand how dangerous that was?!”

Neither boy could think of a word to say. Minho kept his eyes to the ground, ashamed and somewhat guilty for the worry running through the older caretaker’s body.

“I’m sorry, Jorge.” Thomas sighed. “It… won’t happen again. I promise.”

“Yes, it won’t happen again.” Minho agreed.

“It _can’t_ happen again,” Jorge pressed. His whole body grew lack as tension left his muscles. “Please, you two… just… try to understand one another. Give each other the respect you both deserve and the space you both need.”

Without more to say, Jorge shook his head and left them alone to clean their mess. Minho and Thomas remained sitting on the couch, their bodies aching from bruises that formed beneath their clothes. Parts of Thomas’s hair felt sticky and clumpy from the sweets he’d been eating while Minho’s clothes were stained and torn. The kitchen was a worse off mess than they were, but neither boy moved from their place.

Thomas turned to Minho at the same time Minho turned to him. They both glanced at each other, words a jumbled up mess in their minds.

“I’m… sorry.” Minho murmured. “I was being petty. I’d been a straight ass to you for the past two weeks and that’s… shitty of me. I’m sorry.”

“No it’s... I get it.” Thomas sighed. “Minho, I’m… I know my words don’t mean anything to you because of my status as an Alpha and where I live, but I just want you to know I’m not… I hate what you’ve been through. What others are going through. And I swear to you, when I can, I’m going to change the way things are now.”

Minho chuckled without humor. “Yeah, right—”

“No, I’m serious. The marketplace, this whole classification system, it’s complete and utter bullshit, Minho. It’s not right.”

Minho turned to Thomas then and was taken aback by the sincerity in the boy’s eyes.

“Yeah,” he said dryly. “Yeah, it’s bullshit.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“I’ll clean up the mess.” Thomas said after a long stretch of silence.

Minho watched him for a moment then followed the younger Alpha into the kitchen to help.


	6. Chapter 6

Minho’s listlessness was not lost on Thomas. He’d spent enough time with the Beta to understand how the boy thought. He was high strong and stubborn. He had an air of defiance Thomas couldn’t talk him out of, nor did he ever want to. He was sarcastic and blunt—the feistiest Beta Thomas had the luxury of meeting—but lately, Minho had become merely a husk of what he once was.

And Thomas wasn’t sure why.

Sure, their first few weeks of getting to know each other was… difficult. Minho messed up more times than Thomas could count and instead of relieving the stress he faced in his day to day life by buying a Beta of his own, Minho seemed to add _more_ problems onto Thomas’s plate. But that had been then. As the weeks went by, and both boys followed the advice Jorge had given them, their relationship had progressed. Or at least, Thomas hoped it did.

They were on better terms, that much was certain. Thomas could hold a conversation with the Beta boy and Minho was less snarky with him, although still just as blunt and sarcastic. (If anything, Thomas felt like the boy was teasing him rather than trying to be difficult.) Minho was more open to him, more honest and accepting. But lately…? He hadn’t been.

Thomas needed to know why.

-x-X-x-

It was during breakfast that following morning when Thomas decided he would confront his friend about his strange behavior. Thomas watched the Beta move robotically around the dining hall, his mind recalling the events from earlier before. Just like every morning since Minho’s strange behavior began, the Beta hadn’t said more than a few words to Thomas. He merely woke him up with a curt “morning”, told him breakfast would be served in a moment then left the room without another word. Thomas bit his lower lip, disturbed and unsure of what to do.

He continued to watch the Beta as he set down Thomas’s plate before him in silence. He did the same for his parents, bowed briefly under their acknowledging gazes then joined Jorge out of the room.

Thomas ate his breakfast in silence, his appetite sour.

“Something wrong with your friend, Thomas?” his mother asked, breaking the heavy silence.

“I… don’t know,” he confessed. He tore his eyes away from his meal and stared across the table toward his parents. “You’ve noticed it too, huh?”

“Kinda hard not to.” Vince shrugged. “He’s been awfully quiet lately.”

Mary turned worried eyes to her husband. “Do you think he’s depressed? He’s only been here for a few months.”

“He’s a Beta in an Alpha dominant household. He has no freedom outside of these walls and worst of all, he’s Thomas’s babysitter—”

“ _Hey!_ ” Thomas cried indignantly.

“—what do _you_ think?”

Mary saddled her husband with a deadpan expression despite his amused grin. “Good point,” she said dully, making Vince chuckle. “Thomas, what do you plan to do?”

Saddled with his parents’ full attention, Thomas felt his nerves kick in. He shoved around pieces of egg and bacon with his fork as he thought. “Talk to him, I guess.” He said after a stretch of silence. “Figure out what it is that’s on his mind and see if there’s anything I can do to help him.”

Mary looked as though she wanted to say more but held back the barrage of questions Thomas was certain was formulating in her mind. He watched her visibly relax in her chair then sliced a piece of sausage with her knife.

“That sounds like a good idea,” she smiled.

-x-X-x-

It was easier said than done.

Minho was, unsurprisingly, tight lipped. Whenever they found a moment of silence among themselves, Thomas tried to get the Beta boy to speak, but the only responses given were mere grunts and one or two worded sentences. Sniffing his scent didn’t reveal anything Thomas didn’t already know. The boy seemed preoccupied. It was clear that he was lost in his head, thinking of things he couldn’t express and—worse yet—didn’t seem to trust Thomas enough _to_ express.

So Thomas did what he had always done: he left Minho to his own devices.

-x-X-x-

In the middle of the night, when all was silent and dark throughout the home, Thomas sat alone in the family room. He was lost in his own thoughts, comforted by the shadows of darkness that enveloped his body and hid him view. From where he sat, he had the perfect view of the foyer and the sitting room across the way. If anyone crept down the stairs for a late night snack, he could see them before they would see him.

It seemed so silly to sit in the dark. He was exhausted from the day, his mind weary from the burden of not knowing what ate away at his friend, but if Minho refused to speak to him then maybe, just maybe, a sign would come to him.

Luckily for him, he didn’t have to wait long.

Ten minutes past midnight, hours after the house had fallen silent, Thomas’s ears heard the telltale signs of movement from the stairs. Soft footsteps padded their way down the step, their owner cautious of how much pressure to apply on each step as they walked. Thomas shifted silently in his chair, his muscles ready to move if need be.

Within seconds, Minho’s shadowy form filled out the entryway.

Thomas flicked on the lamplight before the Beta could move.

The Beta jerked in alarm as light washed into the family room. He whirled into Thomas’s direction, dark eyes wide in terror before realization dawned on him. His moment of panic morphed into irritation in a flash.

“God dammit Thomas, what the Hell are you doing?” He snapped.

“Where are you going?” Thomas asked, ignoring his question. He stood up from the chair, muscles suddenly tense. “Are you running away again?”

Minho clicked his tongue, his eyes rolling in their sockets. “And? What if I am? What are you gonna do ‘bout it?”

Thomas didn’t hesitate. He pulled out a wad of cash from his pajama pocket and handed it to Minho before the Beta could protest. Minho’s palms were warm and sweaty in his grip. They trembled lightly as though anxiety ran through the Beta boy’s veins. Thomas couldn’t blame him.

He stepped away from him, face calm and resolve unwavering.

Minho eyed the rolled up cash in his hands with a frown.

“What’s this?”

“Money.”

“I know that,” Minho snapped without malice. “I mean, why are you giving it to me?”

Thomas shrugged. “I wanted to help.”

“What?”

Thomas sighed. “When you first tried to escape, I wanted you to stay because I didn’t want to lose you. I thought being here was better than being out there, but I know you’ve been unhappy lately. And if leaving this place is the only way to get you to be happy again then, well… I won’t stand in your way.”

Minho’s fingers clutched tightly around the wad of curled bills. He stared into Thomas’s face with an expression that was hard to read. Thomas felt a sense of anxiety. If he was being honest with himself, he still didn’t want Minho to leave. He liked the boy too much to lose him and while he still believed their home was the best place for the Beta, he understood he couldn’t make the boy stay. Slave or not, Thomas didn’t want to impede any more than he already has on the only freedom Minho had left.

“Thank you, Thomas,” Minho whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “That’s… I… thank you.”

Thomas shrugged, unsure of what else to do. He stuffed his hands into his pajama pockets to keep Minho from seeing them shake. “Whatever decision you make, know that I…” He cleared his throat, suddenly overcome with a hurricane of emotion. He swallowed thickly, tongue dry. “I support you. And I… I’ll miss you.”

He hurried out of the family room without waiting for a response and hurried up the stairs without looking back.

-x-X-x-

Thomas couldn’t bring himself to sleep that night, his mind overcome with emotion. He climbed out of bed just as the sky turned pink with the sun’s arrival and dreaded what was to come. He had no idea how he planned on explaining to his parents that the slave he was given for his birthday was gone or that he had no plans of filing a missing slave report with the police.

With heavy, groggy footsteps, Thomas forced his limbs toward the door. He opened the door and nearly collided into a familiar chest.

“Damn shank, you look like you didn’t sleep a wink.”

Thomas jerked backward in terror. “MINHO?!” He screamed.

The Beta grimaced. He slapped a hand over Thomas’s mouth then shoved him back into the bedroom before Jorge or his parents could question them.

“Do you have to be so damn loud?”

Thomas shoved the hand away from him, eyes wide. “I thought you were leaving? What are you doing here?”

“Well you know, you looked so damn sad when I told you I planned on escaping that I couldn’t just _leave_.” Minho scoffed. “Made me feel too damn guilty. Here.” He shoved the money into Thomas’s chest despite the boy’s sputtering and grinned mischievously. “Besides, I really wasn’t planning on going anywhere. I just… had a lot on my mind.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Minho’s expression softened. “Didn’t know how to say it. But I… I do appreciate what you said downstairs. About letting me leave and giving me money. That… thanks.” He murmured softly. “Really, thank you.”

Before Thomas could say another word, Minho’s arms were around him. He squeezed the boy tightly against his own, his nose nuzzling into the crook of Thomas’s neck. Thomas returned the gesture just as tight. They stood that way for what seemed like ages, until Minho pulled away, a sly smile on his face.

“You should get some sleep, ya shank. You look like a zombie.”

Thomas chuckled. He reached for Minho’s hand, interlacing their fingers and urged him silently toward the bed. They snuggled into bed together, arms wrapped around each other, foreheads inches apart. There were a thousand things Thomas wanted to say, but the warmth of Minho’s body heat and the familiar comforting scent of his aroma lulled him into a gentle, deep sleep.


	7. Epilogue

3 years later

 

Minho sucked in a shaky breath. His eyelashes brushed the soft cloth of the blindfold as he blinked, making his head race in a mixture of anxious excitement. The blindfold was thick and dark, yet the material was soft, almost like silk against his skin.  
  
He was not surprised by the smoothness. Thomas was an Alpha after all, adopted by a wealthy power couple and spoiled rotten. At least, that’s what he appeared to be on the surface.  
  
The past three years had taught him that not all Alphas were alike. They may have gotten off on the wrong foot before, but Thomas had earned the Beta male’s trust. He had earned his friendship, his loyalty and... perhaps even his heart.  
  
Minho swallowed down his nerves, his body trembling. He rather keep that secret to himself.  
  
He heard movement to his left, smelled the distinct scent of musk and Earth he’d come to associate with Thomas as the Alpha leaned over the mattress to check Minho’s bindings. His arms and legs were tied securely to the bedpost; tight enough to keep Minho in place but not enough to cut his circulation. Thomas was careful in his ministrations. He took care of Minho with such precise and careful hands, the Beta had felt himself shudder in anticipation.  
  
“You’re good,” He heard Thomas whisper, his voice suddenly close, breath hot. “I’m going to take care of you, Min. Do you trust me?”  
  
Minho swallowed dryly. “I trust you.”  
  
Thomas’s hand trailed from the length of the boy’s muscular arm in a slow, careful stroke. He caressed Minho’s pecs with feather like touches; with a long dangerous finger, he encircled one nipple. Squeezed it between his fingers. Trailed down further into the dip of his bellybutton.  
  
Suddenly, Thomas was in between his legs. He kissed the skin of his inner thigh then nipped and sucked the thick layer of skin and fat. Minho’s body tensed. His head fell back on its own occurred as a soft moan escaped his lips. He spread his legs out further despite the constraints wrapped around his ankles.  
  
Thomas switched to the next thigh, pressing butterfly kisses along the sensitive skin. He alternated between nipping and kissing, threw in a bite or two or three. He crawled higher and higher until his nose brushed against Minho’s balls.  
  
Minho’s moans hitched from the contact. Heat crawled up the base of his neck, embarrassment marring his features. He heard Thomas chuckle.  
  
“Shut up, Shank! Don’t say a word.” He hissed.  
  
“Is that something you should say to your master?” Thomas teased.  
  
Minho couldn’t see him, but he could hear the smug smirk on the bastards face. He felt movement from his legs. Thomas’s weight shifted around the mattress until he felt lips brush against his own.  
  
He responded greedily to the kiss; their lips melding in perfect synchrony until Thomas pulled away and trailed more kisses from his jaw to his neck. He bit into Minho’s heated flesh.  
  
“You teasing bastard,” Minho gasped, arching against Thomas’s body. “Stop fuckin’ around and get on with it!”  
  
Thomas sucked and nipped the boy’s sensitive flesh until it bruised beneath his lips. He repeated the process along Minho’s chest, leaving a trail of bruises until Minho’s body twitched with every touch.  
  
The Beta’s dick lay heavy against his stomach, red and dark as it wept clear pre-cum against his skin. Thomas sank back between his legs. He lifted those strong, thick thighs just high enough to lay more kisses and bites.  
  
Minho squirmed.  
  
“Thomas, I swear—!” He gasped. “Touch me or fuck off!”  
  
The Alpha hummed thoughtfully. He eyed the tight, dark ring of Minho’s ass—clenching and unclenching with a need that was not met. Thomas felt his own arousal pool hotly in his groin. His dick hung heavily between his legs, red and weeping. His knot grew steadily. The more he played and teased, the more heated he became.  
  
“Thomas?”  
  
“I think,” The Alpha began, voice husky with lust. “You need to learn some patience.”  
  
Thomas dipped his head into Minho’s groin, relishing the sound of his lover’s hearty groan as he buried his nose into Minho’s heat. He inhaled the Beta’s scent—it was more distinct now that Minho’s arousal was apparent. He took a testicle in his mouth, sucked and nipped until Minho’s legs jerked and twitched all around him. He switched to the next and rolled his tongue against the heated flesh.  
  
He trailed up Minho’s length, licking and sucking the base of the boy’s dick. Minho’s moans grew louder, his back arching. He continued higher, leaving a wet, hot trail along Minho’s shaft until Thomas’s tongue lapped its way to the top of Minho’s weepy head. He licked up the pre-cum, tasting salt and sweat. A full body shudder ran down the base of his spine.  
  
He opened his mouth and engulfed Minho’s dick entirely.  
  
Minho keened into the touch. He thrashed against the mattress, his back arching painfully, his arms and legs straining against their bonds. The moan that tore itself from his throat was loud. The heat of Thomas’s mouth was intense against his skin. He felt the Alpha’s tongue press against his length, slippery and soft. Thomas bobbed his head, sucking all the pre-cum he could from Minho until his dick was wet with saliva and dark from blood.  
  
He pulled away with a loud pop.  
  
“Thomas!” Minho whined, his voice breathless. He felt the other boy’s weight vanish momentarily, but it was back before he could comment. A loud snap carried through the room and soon, Thomas was back between Minho’s legs.  
  
His mouth was back on Minho’s dick, hot and welcoming. He hiked up the Beta’s legs again and laid them against his shoulders. Minho squirmed. He tugged on the constraints wrapped around his wrists, wishing he could run his fingers through Thomas’s hair.  
  
He wished he could grab that damnable Alpha and fuck the boy’s throat raw. He wanted to see his pretty face grow pink from the efforts; wanted to hear that cute bastard scream his name.  
  
Minho’s thoughts stuttered to a stop as he felt a slick finger dance dangerously close to his ring of tight muscle. Thomas encircled the opening, feeling the muscle clench and unclench with want. He slipped a slender finger inside.  
  
Minho’s whole body jolted from the intrusion. He was loose from the pleasure thanks to Thomas’s ministrations, but the presence of the boy’s finger felt strange and unnatural to his body.  
  
Thomas slipped another slick finger into Minho. He massaged him from the inside, crooking his fingers and scissoring the tight muscle further apart. He pulled his mouth away from Minho’s dick, ignorant of how red his lips were and how flushed his skin appeared to be.  
  
With another helping of lube, lathered his own dick and lifted the boy’s hips. He pressed the head of his thick cock into the opening. Thomas slipped inside easily.  
  
“Fuuuuuuuuck,” Minho groaned. “Finally.”  
  
Minho’s warmth was unbearable. He was flushed all the way to Thomas’s knot, hot and heavy, yet not quite ready. Thomas draped his body on top of Minho’s and pressed another kiss to the boy’s jaw.  
  
“I’m moving.”  
  
“Do it then,” Minho grunted. “Stop ta—Ah!”  
  
Thomas snapped his hips into Minho. The Beta’s voice trailed into a moan. He pulled out again, slow and steady then slammed deep into the boy’s overheated warmth. He shifted his positions then carried on with his rhythm.  
  
Minho’s moans turned into desperate screams. Thomas rocked into him in an unforgiving pace. His knot snagged onto the boy’s ring, pushing its way through until it was thick and burning with the need for eruption.  
  
Thomas bit into Minho’s shoulders, his Alpha instincts howling to claim the boy he was fucking into oblivion as his own. The heat in the pit of their stomachs intensified, igniting their nerves with waves upon waves of pleasure until the sensations crescendo beyond their control.  
  
Thomas unloaded his cum into Minho. Every muscle in his body contracted from the waves of pleasure that burned through him. His hips rocked on their own, milking himself dry into Minho until he felt the sticky substance gush out with every thrust.  
  
He collapsed on top of the Beta, dimly aware of an uncomfortable mess between their stomachs. Minho’s breaths were harsh against his ears. His chest heaved from the extension, his body flushed and sweaty. With shaky fingers, Thomas pulled down the blindfold from the Beta’s face and peered into those weary, glassy eyes.  
  
He grinned stupidly.  
  
“You’re so loud, Min.” He teased.  
  
“I hate you,” Minho rasped, voice raw.  
  
Thomas leaned into him for a kiss. “No you don’t. You love me.”  
  
“Yeah,” Minho laid his head back against the pillow, his eyes fluttering shut. “I do.” He confessed, unashamed. “I really, really do.”

-x-X-x-

He felt the hands before he saw the faces; felt the pain of fingers squeezing too tight and sharp nails biting into his flesh. He heard the distorted wails of the others, some young, some old – all of them crying for help that would not come. Minho’s body grew hot with rage, though his eyes were dark with blindness and his mind too muddy to understand what was happening around him.

And yet, somehow, deep inside, he knew. He was back in the marketplace, with his wrists and ankles chained and his sin chafing beneath the metal. He was back among the abandoned Betas and the unclaimed Omegas as they pleaded and cried for someone to free them or fill their aching needs.

He wrapped his calloused, bruised fingers around the iron bars, spitting rage into the next Alpha who dared look his way. His knuckles grew white, his skin stretched taut over the bones as his whole body shuddered.

“Where’s Thomas?!” He screamed. His handler’s merely sneered. “Tell me where you took him! Thomas! THOMAS! BRING HIM BACK!”

The cacophony of cries crescendo in his ears. The handlers laughed.

Minho screamed in their faces. He rattled his chains against the bars until the only sounds he could hear was the horrible, ear piercing _clank! Clank! Clank!_ Of metal against metal.

“GIVE HIM BACK! GIVE! HIM! BACK!”

_“Minho!”_

Minho’s eyes snapped open as a full body jerk rattled him back to reality. He found himself sitting upright, chest heaving and body soaked in sweat as Thomas watched worriedly. Thomas’s fingers were cool against his heated skin as he worked small, careful circles into Minho’s tense muscles.

“Hey, hey,” the other male murmured, voice soft in the darkness. “It was just a nightmare. I’m right here, okay? I need you to breathe.”

Minho swallowed gulpfuls of air as he tried to slow his breathing down. His tongue was uncomfortably sticky in his mouth, rough and dry from the stress of his nightmare. A bottle of water pressed against his lips before he could notice. He drank it greedily.

Thomas continued to rub circles into his shoulder blades. When he was calm enough, Minho heaved a heavy sigh and relaxed into his boyfriend’s touch.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The question hung heavy between them.

Minho capped the water bottle and left it on the nightstand. He ran shaky fingers into his tousled hair and grimaced. They were soaked with sweat.

“It was a nightmare,” he murmured after a long stretch of silence. His hesitation did not go unnoticed, yet he pressed onward, Thomas’s careful fingers a comfort to Minho. “I dreamt about the market.”

Thomas’s only response was an intake of breath. He drew closer to Minho and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I know you try to avoid thinking about that place.”

Minho leaned into Thomas’s embrace, the ache of their earlier ministrations made itself known with every movement he made.

“Yeah,” he grunted. “It was a shit hole.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. You can’t control how society wants to treat people.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not sorry.” Thomas sighed. “We’re trying our best, Minho.”

“I know you are.”

Thomas fell back onto the mattress, Minho’s head still tucked firmly into his chest as he ran long fingers through the Beta’s dark locks of hair.

“I promise you, we’re going to take that place down. It just… takes time.”

“I believe you,” Minho said with unwavering finality. “We’re going to hit them where it hurts and they’re gonna regret everything they’ve ever done to all those Betas and Omegas. I’m gonna make sure of it.” He gripped onto Thomas like his life depended on it. A barrage of vague images and memories, whether from the nightmare or Minho’s past experiences, flashed before the Beta’s eyes. He buried his nose deeper into Thomas’s neck, inhaling the comforting scent of the Alpha beneath him.

They would come for Janson soon enough, Minho would make sure of it. He refused to allow society to continue on their current path and while he may have been lucky, there were far too many others who were still begging for help. Thomas’s breathing fell into a tranquil rhythm as Minho listened. He pulled away from the Alpha and curled up beside him, content to watch him sleep in blissful silence.

Yes, they would take down WICKED’s Beta and Omega slave trades soon enough. It was only a matter of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This didn't turn out the way I had envisioned and school kept me from writing the story in sequence so it was a struggle to get this project completed. I'm not particularly fond of the direction it went but it was really nice getting to write my baby boys again. I think next time I'll write a better outline to prepare myself in case there's going to be another gap of time between chapters.
> 
> Check out my writing tumblr (nadacreates.tumblr.com) and/or my writing twitter (@nadacreates) for more stories!


End file.
